Klavier Drives, Phoenix Calls Shotgun
by Sklar
Summary: This is why you get your licence at sixteen like a normal person...
1. Chapter One

_Title: Klavier Drives, Phoenix calls shotgun  
Author: ALW Sklarvv  
Rating: PG-13, language and themes (if you're a sissy)  
Genre: Humor? Is really-bad-boredom-writing a genre?  
Status: To be released in chapters. Chapter 1 and 2 complete, 3 in the works  
Pairing: None (no gaysex for you, hahaha)_

_Focus: Mainly Phoenix_

_Time Period: After AJ:AA, **with spoilers for Apollo and Phoenix series.**_

* * *

When someone claims that they could "do this in their sleep", they mean to say "I am an expert at this and could do it very well at any time"

When someone claims that they could "do this in their sleep", they mean to say "I am an expert at this and could do it very well at any time".

Phoenix could literally hit the snooze in his sleep. This was quite a feat to do on a cell phone alarm, where you have to press tiny buttons a few times, but he could do it. And apparently he had, several times, because instead of rising to an obnoxious series of high pitched beeping, he woke up to the rhythmic pounding of his daughter's feet on his back.

"Dad! Dad! You're gonna be late!" she warned as she used his spine as a trampoline.

He just groaned, muttered something about selling Trucy to the gypsies, and put his pillow over his head to block out the yelling. This didn't work very well, since the cell alarm went off on the phone inside the pillow case, where it would sound the loudest and so he would have trouble getting at it to add five minutes of sweet, sweet sleep. He reached in and flipped it off again.

"Phoenicholas James Wright," The girl started pissed-offedly, not that she was actually certain of his middle name.((Totally not because those are my father's initials oh no no…)) "I can't believe this. You'll be late and lose your job and we'll have to live in a box and I'll starve to death. Is… Is that what you want?" She tried as hard as she could to sound pitiful and make her voice crack at the end, but it hadn't worked. At least the snoring pillow didn't think so.

Reaching into the pillow case as roughly as she could, Trucy yanked the old cell phone out and put one hand on her hip as she blipped through the menus. "Fine, sleep today. I'll just set the thing to vibrate tomorrow, if that'll make you wake up faster."

The lump under the pillow and blanket twitched violently like it had just been struck. Phoenix stretched out like a cat before sitting up cross-legged. He glared at Trucy with his dark eyes. A few months earlier Phoenix must have bumped the "Volume" tab in his pocket, setting it to vibrate. He hasn't noticed this until 6:40 the following morning, when it went off in his eardrum. It felt just enough like a taser to make him fling it across the room screaming like a little girl, where it hit the wall. The birth of the masking-taped battery tab.

He held out his hand and forced a sour smile to crack across his red face. "That isn't fair. Why can't you forget things like a normal person?"

Trucy beamed and tapped the phone to the top of her head, indicating the vast knowledge within. "An elephant never forgets," she pointed out. Obvious reason, really.

He reached out and pulled Trucy into a teddy bear hug and held it for a moment to kiss her forehead before yanking the phone out of her hand. He peered at it for a moment, and tapped her lightly over the head with it. "Remember now?"

Still tired from chasing his daughter around the apartment laughing and hitting her with a phone in his boxers, Mr. Wright caught his breath. He should probably check to see if the old thing could still work, even if he hadn't hit her that hard. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, it looked fine, but so much button-to-scalp action had brought the phone to the "Calendar" menu. A really old one.

Only one day was marked, so he clicked on it. He sat, totally still, for a full two minutes before tipping his head back on the headrest and putting his hand over his eyes.

_How could I have let myself forget this…?_


	2. Chapter Two

Work was just peachy.

Phoenix's poker table was collecting dust, as almost nobody had challenged him since the whole "Shadi getting brained" thing. In fact, almost nobody in genral came into the frigid restaurant to eat cold soup anymore after the whole "Russian waitress who wasn't really Russian trying to frame the poker dude, who was then beaten by a man with a grape juice bottle who was later killed in the same resturant with the bottle" thing.

Oh, and Welch's had gone out of business.

He didn't even know why he bothered showing up to work anymore. At least not this early. Who comes to a Russian restaurant to listen to shoddy piano at 8am, anyways?

But today Mr. Wright had gotten one request, a rarity for the hoodie-garbed musician, from a family who came to the restaurant to celebrate some little kid's sixth birthday. He didn't even get to the "Dear -insert name here-" part in "Happy Birthday" when the brat started crying. He had gotten off the bench to go over and comfort the kid when the very angry father kicked him in the groin so hard the person charting the Wright family tree never again had to add another branch.

So now the ex-Ace rode curled up in the fetal position on the bus seat like some homeless person. "Sir?" asked a frail looking old lady with a handbag and a sack of groceries, as there's always a frail looking old lady with a handbag and a sack of groceries on a bus. "Are you quite alright? Do you need anything?" Her trembling old voice was concerned.

"Y-yes…" squeaked the shivering lump "Can you tell me who the hell wears steel-toed boots to a restaurant?"

The old lady did an old lady nose-upturned "Hrmph!" and got off the bus huffily muttering something about urban folk and their language and the nerve of young people like a token old lady with no character depth would. Phoenix mustered the strength to struggle into an upright seated position. He hated doing this, but it was the only way. He needed to regain his composure if he wanted this to work. Letting out a wavery sigh, he watched the houses zip by

-- --

Klavier Gavin rolled off his couch and into a wriggling mass of swearing, hung-over, purple-suited drill-hair. Huh. He didn't remember falling asleep. He did, however remember the night before he had decided to play a street corner. He hadn't been sure, even then, why he decided to lug his guitar out in the cold autumn night and play. He didn't need money. Was he craving attention again? The feel of his fingers plucking hard, metal strings? Or of how he would lose himself entirely to the music, the sound of the guitar dancing with his voice through the alleyways in the dark? That was probably it. He needed that; it was like air to him.

It had ended when some fangirl asked for an autograph and said something about how he used to be her favorite guitarist and that she wanted to have his babies. Used to be. The past-tense made him go home to cry his eyes out like a little girl. A little girl with booze.

Klavier had stopped struggling and decided to just lay there, closing his eyes to better wallow in self pity when the doorbell rang. It startled him so badly he jumped to his feet and was instantly hit with vertigo wooziness like a ton of bricks and fell back, breaking a coffee table.

He opened the door with a bit too much force before leaning heavily on it, obviously the only think keeping him upright. "Hah-Hallo?" he stammered gruffly at the figure on his porch. He couldn't tell who it was; it was just a silhouette against the bright afternoon sun that was causing his head to scream in agony. He tried to squint a little to block out the sun and get a better look, but his uselessly dilated pupils would have none of it._ The bastards…_

"Eh, hi." Said the figure meekly "I know this is… This is sudden. I mean, I hardly know you, but…" he trailed off a bit before turning his head to Klavi again "I need a favor."

"Keh?" muttered Klavier, now recognizing the figure as Phoenix Wright. What could he want? "Was d'you want?"

"Well, um, I need to be somewhere by tomorrow, but it's a really long trip and I don't exactly have a car or the funds to take a cab. You're the only guy I sorta know that has one, and since I hear noodle stands get awful gas mileage…" he explained, forcing a nervous chuckle at the end.

"So," Klavier was kind of lost, he raised an eyebrow. "You need my car?"

"No, no…" said Phoenix, who was getting more and more uncomfortable. "I… I can't drive."

"You want me to drive you? Like your, ach…" He stopped and put his hand over his eyes, rubbing at his temples with his thumb and middle finger. When totally awake, he could speak perfect English with an awesome adorable accent. Why was he tripping over words so much now? It was getting really old really fast. Dammit, no matter how many years he didn't use it, German was still the language his train of thought used as fuel. "Treiber! No, wait. Chauffeur! Like that!" he said, pointing to Phoenix with triumph he got it right. _Victory!_

"Yeah…" Phoenix muttered warily, pushing the finger away gingerly like it had cooties. "I mean, if you can drive. Are you okay? You seem… Off."

Klavier raised his hand to shush the man in the doorway. "Ja, no worries. Just need a coffa cuppee, I'll be okay." Was it possible to wash puke out of a doormat? He didn't want to find out.

"Uh-"

"I will pick you up at six, then! 'Bye!"

"Wait!"

Mr. Gavin slammed the door on Wright and ran to the nearest sink.


	3. Chapter Three

((Holy crap, guys! Thank you so much for all the support! I really wasn't expecting that.))

* * *

"The Door to the Wright & Co. Talent Agency is Always Open!"

This always had made Apollo a little sad. He would have felt so cool if he got his own set of keys…

Running up to the door, he twisted the brass handle and threw it open too quickly, almost breaking Mister Charley's pot. Again. That had always - would always - make him feel really bad. Like he had run up and socked his grandfather in the mouth. He was muttering an apology to him when a voice came from the tacky pleather couch facing him. "You do that every day, don't you?" She chuckled.

Apollo straightened himself up to peer over the other couch at the speaker. It was Trucy, laying oh her back like an otter with a white book in her hand. "Oh, hi." He looked down at Charley one last time to make sure he was okay before going over and plopping down on the couch across from her. Since finding out they were related Apollo wasn't entirely sure how to act around Trucy. The same? More wise and brotherly? Like a bossy older assholeish brother should? Or maybe he could just sit in stifling silence and fidget around a bit. That option seemed to work out quite well. He studied a papercut on the first joint of the pinky finger on his left hand for a solid twenty seconds before muttering "So, um… Yeah. How are you?"

Trucy didn't seem to be bugged at all about their newfound blood bond, but she continued to read for an agonizing minute before answering "Oh, Daddy told me to tell you he was going to be late getting home today."

"Okay." Apollo said with a forced shrug. Mr. Wright was like an indoor-outdoor cat. He came and went as he pleased, so this was nothing new. He grew tired of scratching at his knees absent-mindedly and looked at the loudly ticking clock for twelve CLACKing seconds before looking back at Trucy. _Is she ignoring me on purpose? No! She can't be, no... no. That book must just be really… Gripping or something. Yeah. Or does she hate me? She probably does. I can see why. I suck. I hate me too. I hope I get hit by a bus. A flaming bus. Filled with rocks and angry lions. On steroids. I totally deserve that._

He cocked his head to the side to get at the right angle to read the title of the book like some retarded dog with something in its ear, anything to distract himself. "_Jeremy Fink and The Meaning of Life_", it had a bunch of keys on it. Just as he did this, Trucy peered up over the novel and gave him a puzzled look. Taking the head tilt as a question mark, she continued. "Well, he said he needed to go over to Prosecutor Gavin's place."

"Really? That's weird. I haven't had a case in a while, let alone one with him. Why'd he go over to his office?"

"Not his office, his house. That's what he told me, anyway."

Apollo raised an eyebrow. _…The hell?_ "Why would…?"

"He wouldn't tell me why. Said it was secret or something."

Apollo frowned. This wasn't gonna be like the last secret mission he worked on, was it? Because that was cool and he still felt kind of left out still from not being a part of it. He hated being nosy, but he made a little mental note to snoop around a bit later. Mason II might actually make sense, and he wanted in on it.

Just then the door swung open, stopping less than an inch shy of Mr. Charley's pot. Clearly a pro's work. A scruffy man walked in and waved a little.

"Daddy!" Trucy leapt off the couch and ran over to give him a big hug, the book falling pages-down on the floor by Apollo's feet. Apollo couldn't help but feel sort of jealous, but jerky older brothers aren't supposed to want affection, so he blew it off.

"Hey, Mr. Wright. What did you need from Mr. Gavin?" _Tact is for squares._

Wright put down Trucy from the hug and made a face like what would happen if you crossbred a smile and a wince. "We had some things to talk over. Don't worry about it. Anyway, I'm just stopping here for a second." He crouched down in front of Trucy and put his hand on her shoulder. "I gotta go, I'll be back tomorrow night, probably. Until then," he looked up and beamed at Apollo, cranking the calm-radiating factor of his black eyes to full blast "Apollo, can you hold down the fort? It's not that I don't trust Trucy, I'd just rather someone else is here to make sure the place doesn't burn down."

_What are you doing, where are you going, and why can't I come!?_ "Yeah, sure."

"Arright, good, then. Thanks."

_I won't let you leave until you tell me where you're going, you monster!_ "So… Where are you going?"

"Ah… Nothing to worry about, really. I just need to be alone a little while and run an errand and… Stuff." His smile faltered. Not really a tic, but something Apollo picked up on anyways. Phoenix Wright wasn't telling him something. This was really starting to bother him. What was it that he'd hide from his kids? Why would he go over to see Klavier? What would he need him for? And why would he have to go to the Gavin's home? That meant that it probably wasn't work-related. And now he was leaving them home alone without telling them what was happening? Overnight? What's going on, and how is this connected?

"Welp, I gotta pack…" Phoenix hoisted himself up, using Trucy's shoulders for support, and tottered off to his room, walking all bandy-legged.

"Oh, **_shit._**"

"What's with the face, Apollo?"


	4. Chapter Four

((Three cheers for irregular updates!))

Phoenix stepped into his room and closed the door behind him. He rested his back on the pressboard wood and let himself slide down it slowly until he was in a seated position. His situation wasn't so bad. Really, it wasn't. As long as he kept telling himself that, he'd be okay. _Lying makes things better_, thought the lawyer.

It really could be worse. All he had to do was abandon his kid at home alone for over a day and go on a long road trip with the possibly intoxicated man that had taken his job from him to a place he didn't want to, but had to be. And his balls still kind of hurt. "It's better than being hit by a flaming bus full of angry lions on steroids," he muttered to himself, letting out a sigh. "But if one came screaming through the wall right now, I wouldn't be that broken up about it."

He got to his feet and brushed some dust off of an oversized rolling suitcase that leaned on a wall. The thing was frigging massive, but you take what you can get. Lugging it over to his bed, he unzipped it and dropped in a change of clothes he pulled at random from a pile nearby. He checked his phone again, to make absolutely sure that tomorrow was the day. It was, unfortunately. He also noticed that he only had a bar of battery left, so he turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket as he stepped into the bathroom, trying to think happy thoughts and failing at it.

* * *

Apollo heard the bathroom door shut from the living room-main office area, where he was sitting trying to tell himself he was imagining things. This was his chance! He could find the incriminating evidence, or, hopefully, lack of it, in his room while Wright was in the can!

Slowly, slowly, slowly he rose from the pleather couch, wincing at the squeaky noise the cheap dead-cow wannabe material made. Slipping his shoes off for maximum sneakiness, checking that Trucy was still in the land of _Jeremy Fink_, Apollo padded like a cat on the balls of his feet to the door.

"Hey, Polly,"

He nearly tripped over his socks and whipped around "AIGH, WHAT!? W-What…?"

Trucy looked at him weirdly again, she'd been doing that a lot lately, and Apollo was worried her face would stick that way. "Um… Never mind?"

Apollo gave a wavery sigh and pushed open the door slowly as he willed his heartbeat to regulate again. "I've had a long day, I'm sorry…"

Poking his head into the room, he stepped in quietly and slid the door shut behind him. A fall breeze wafted in through an open window and made him shiver. _Not everyone wears winter clothes all the time, Mr. Wright…_

Scanning the room, he almost instantly found what he was looking for, an enormous suitcase sitting on the mattress Wright slept on. Apollo had to walk around it to fully absorb the hugeness of the thing, a big, black, pully, rolly thing that, when upright, would probably go almost up to his shoulder. It was unzipped. He rubbed his hands together Indiana-Jones-style to prepare himself.

And then the bathroom doorknob made a click noise.

Apollo's heart skipped a beat before he franticly looked around the room for a place to hide. The room was bare, and the mattress laid on the floor. To get to the door he would have to run over the mattress, and that would make a loud noise. He panicked and looked behind him, breaking out into a cold sweat. The window would work. But how high up were they? He remembered the stairs with a sinking feeling. The knob turned.

It had to be done.

* * *

"I'M AWAKE, DAMMIT!" was inscribed in bold lettering on the large, blue mug. And he was. Klavier's mouth tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and that wasn't pleasant, but other than that he was feeling way better. His head still hurt, but he didn't feel so grimy anymore after changing clothes and showering. He took another sip of liquid slap-to-the-face as he tried to piece together what went down earlier today. It was just a few hours ago, he knew, but he was having trouble.

Phoenix had come over and asked for something, but what? He picked at a loose string on the sleeve of his tee shirt. Well, he could always drive over there and ask.

Drive.

Klavier spit his coffee all over the table.


	5. Chapter Five

((Thanks for the support, again. Don't think this one is as funny as the rest and it's the shortest so far, but whatever...

Oh, and if any of you see anything wrong that I should work on or just crits in general, that would be great. Reviews make me a happy camper hint hint hint…))

* * *

Phoenix Wright moped out of the bathroom and sat down hard on the bed. He would have been in a bad mood anyway, but the circumstances kind of made it even worse, like someone telling you that the already disgusting burned and greasy chicken sandwich you were unhappily eating was actually made out of your dog. Looking at the tiny alarm clock that he never used next to his bed, he saw it was almost five already.

He shut the window and paused to look out of it for a few moments, wondering if this was the last time he'd ever see the sun. He was feeling really depressed and emo since this morning, which wasn't common for him, and it was getting on his nerves. Trying to push feelings of impending doom down as far as they could go (Just far enough to have his conscience ready to scream "I told you so!" if the car was to bash into a tree and set on fire), he turned around, zipped up the suitcase, and rolled it onto the floor. He gripped the plastic handle and dragged it behind him as he pushed the door open.

Trucy was still reading on the couch. Oh, Trucy. She was the thing that had always kept him going, the reason why coming home in a box didn't really appeal to him. He kissed her on the top of the head on his way to the fridge, where he grabbed a couple kid-sized lunchbox juice bottles. He had refilled them himself, though he'd never admit that to his kid. _I need a freaking hug…_

"I gotta get going," Phoenix called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. "I love you, I'll get home as soon as I can, okay?" Phoenix started to tear up a little for some reason. How he hated being a pansy...

Trucy looked up from her book and gave him a big grin. "Love you too, daddy. I'll call you to say goodnight."

That did it. He dropped the suitcase and ran to his daughter, wrapping his arms around her and knocking her hat off to better burry his head in her hair. "I'll miss you," he muttered, giving her a squeeze.

"Dad, you're only going for a day, don't worry…" Trucy said, rocking him back and forth like a kid.

"Yeah, I know." He held her for a bit more before straightening up and clearing his thought, kind of embarrassed now. "Sorry."

"You're gonna be late. Shoo." She smiled.

Phoenix went back to the suitcase and hoisted it up again as Trucy found her page again. Opening the door for real this time, he was about to step out.

"Hey, wait."

He turned around and raised an eyebrow before remembering he wore a hat and she couldn't really see it. "What?"

"What do you think the meaning of life is?"

Though it was a strange question, Phoenix didn't even have to think about his answer. "Take it as it comes and try to make it more bearable for everyone else." He said with a shrug. That's what he'd always gone by, anyway.

He shut the door behind him and stopped. He really wasn't looking forward to this, but it had to happen. He swallowed the lump festering in his throat and tried to find his calm. He stood there with his eyes closed for about a minute before giving up, raising his arm up like a gladiator, and charging down the flight of stairs as the suitcase banged around behind him like a clunky canvas cape.


	6. Chapter Six

Klavier idled at the stoplight for what seemed like years. His fingers drummed on the wheel as his rings caught the sun coming in through the window and blinked it all over the leather interior. He was really late. Not fashionably late, just really, pitifully late. He had been hoping to be able to talk to Wright before to ask just where he was going but the traffic forbid his car from driving above a snail crawl pace. _The hell is a pricey sports car for if you can't go fast? I should have paid them extra to put monster truck wheels on it. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this. I'd grind them into dust, the asses..._ He thought to himself, wondering how much that would cost.

The light turned green and he peeled off towards the office, almost running over some senile dude with a harmonica, but he didn't have time to apologise. A tiny part of him hoped that his car would burn out and die so he would have an excuse to not be there, but it was really a nice car. If the car had a dent in it, he would have rammed it into a tree, but it was mint still. For the first time he was unhappy about that.

_Please tell me he forgot…_

He turned a corner and saw the office there, a blah-looking multi-storied building the color of a dirty sandbox sand with some dead and critically injured bushes in front that Wright rented from. He didn't see him for a moment, just long enough to get his hopes up, before looking to the stoop. Wright sat there in his usual apparel with a suitcase large enough to cram a month's worth of clothes into. _Uh-oh._

* * *

_Please tell me he forgot…_

Phoenix sat on the stoop with his arm resting on his big old suitcase. He was a wreck. Every time a car passed by he jumped like a cat whose tail had been tromped on. After about ten minutes of this Phoenix accepted (Or forced himself o accept) that the car might not come for a while and that he should calm down. Leaning back on the rough concrete a little he sighed and let the cars pass without letting it rattle him.

_He's probably not showing,_ Phoenix thought with a bittersweet smile after a while. He stretched his legs out and wiggled his sandaled feet like a cat. Pausing to look at them, he wondered if he could last a walk to his destination. Probably not. He was out of shape and they were really crappy sandals. He glanced over to the side of the office, where Trucy's bike leaned against the wall. Could he last a bike ride to his destination? He watched the pink sparkly tassels on the heart-studded handlebars billow in the evening breeze and decided not to.

An engine rev snapped him out of his thoughts. He slowly turned his head towards the noise. It couldn't be him, if you're gonna be an hour late, why bother, right?

A high-gloss, deep purple painted, spotless, almost futuristic sports car purred toward the office and stopped. "I wonder who that could be…" shuddered Phoenix, grabbing the handle to his suitcase and pulling it down the stairs. All the while he felt like a convict walking the mile.

He walked over to the passenger-side and tried to peer through the jet black window tint. It rolled down and Klavier, who was wearing sunglasses despite the dark windows, poked his head out. "Other side, it's foreign…" he trailed off as his eyes drifted to the huge suitcase. He gave an almost comical puppy dog face as he stammered. "W-where are we…"

Phoenix looked down at the suitcase and gave an apologetic smile. "Ah, no. I just packed a spare change of clothes, only suitcase I have. You pack a spare?"

Klavier popped the trunk and got out as Phoenix dropped the suitcase in, tipping his sunglasses down to better view it. "Of course. I just packed mine in a baggie, though. So, Mr. Wright, how far are we going exactly?"

Wrapping his fingers on the lid of the trunk and looked down at the suitcase inside it. It didn't look like it was about to fit without a fight. "Not far. Like… Four hours?" The trunk made a loud squeaky yelping noise. The material must be rubbing funny. This thing really wasn't going to fit, but he was going to try, goddammit. Phoenix lifted the lid up all the way and slammed it down as hard as he could. It closed with a bang and stayed that way.

"Heh," he chuckled, almost proud of himself. "It's like when we were little and used to make puzzle pieces fit into the wrong places."

Klavier shrugged as he walked back to the car. "I was never good at puzzles. _Concentration_ used to make me cry." He called over his shoulder

Phoenix hopped in the other side with a snicker. "You aren't supposed to admit things like that unless you're forced to."

The car doors closed and the purple car started on its journey from Point A to Point B.

* * *

(FINALLY. I mean, really. It's about freaking time. Chapter 6 is kind of late to get to the main plot…

Anyway, crits and reviews are always encouraged and appreciated!)


	7. Chapter Seven

(( I'm baa-aack... Quickie, I'll have the next one up soon. I just didn't think it'd look right if I merged this with 6 or 8. ))

Trucy stretched out a little on the couch where she had been laying down. Getting to her feet, she checked the window again and saw her dad was still there. Mr. Gavin was supposed to be there a while ago, wasn't he? Deciding it was her daughterly duty to keep her father company in a time of need, the magician straightened out her skirt and headed towards the door. _Oh, who am I kidding? The house is empty and it's lonely._

She loped down the spiral shaft of stairs as fast as she could. She was fifteen and old enough to stay on her own, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Trucy had run the apartment over with a fine-toothed comb and found no trace of her older brother. He had vanished, totally and completely without a sound or anything. She couldn't help feeling envious. She could never get that right…

Making a mental note to grill Polly on how he did his disappearing act when or if she found him, Trucy reached the bottom of the staircase and swung open the doors to find the stoop empty. She sighed heavily, a sinking sad feeling grabbing onto her lungs and pulling it down with her spirits. "Bye, Daddy…"

Shaking off the feeling, she glanced around. It was a real nice day, kind of warm with a chilly breeze stirring the leaves around and making rain-stick sounds. Pretty. "I should save reading like a dork for rainy days." She said to herself. The pink tassels of her bike caught her eye, and she figured Polly wouldn't panic if she left the apartment for a bit. Not that he'd notice… He'd been acting funny since Vera had been proven innocent. Maybe it was prep for the disappearing thing?

Lifting the helmet off the seat where she had left it, something caught the corner of Trucy's eye. The bushes around the building were gnarly and dead, as usual, but this one in particular looked even more depressing. It was crunched down where it met the wall, making it all the more unattractive. But why? Had something pushed it down? She tightened the straps and walked in for a closer look.

Yeah, it was definitely off. The twigs were broken and ripped up around where it caved in, but she couldn't see what the reason was, as the bottom of the bush was too far down to see at that angle. _Had some pirates or gnomes or something hidden treasure here?_ was obviously the first conclusion to come to mind. Standing on the tips of her boots, she peered in and almost fell back in shock.

"Oh my god!"


End file.
